#wolfvirago

"— Ugh, and only THEN did that INSOLENT SWINE stab me. — ME."

Oh, who knows how the Sea God came to complain. And who knows why she only LISTENS, but the rant had been an earful. Poseidon takes the items as offered leisurely throughout his ramblings, paying them no true mind until this... interesting sake. A taste that can even please a God's senses.

"DANCE, O' LIGHT, ACROSS THE SKY . . . Sent to us, from heaven . . ." Her gentle lullaby fills the air, fingers stroking atop the flayed scales of the young rathalos' crest as he rests with his massive head in her lap. His wounds were healing, and it seemed as though he'd make a full recovery.

Even as the other steps into the room, the girl does not cease her singing, the soft melody recited to the ears of the Sacred Star. Eventually, Mari finishes, and sits up slowly.

"Oh, he's never gonna get tired of that song." She murmurs with a defeated smile across her lips. Honestly, Mari wouldn't have it any other way.

⁕| Unprompted |⁕

What was that...? The blonde woman froze, memories of a time long gone flooding her mind. She felt her body become rigid. No, it couldn't be... It's been years since she came across that salesman, that mask... It was a time locked securely away. So why was it back??

Linkette finally turned her head to face the speaker, feeling an odd wave of relief when it wasn't who she thought. But then, confusion. Did she imagine those words? She always found herself to be nervous, accidentally hearing things that were just traces of memory. Seeing things, like a masked child in a crowd. Was this one of those instances?

Difficulty is had in parsing the intention behind that particular piece of speculation received. Too often had it been sent forth from the mouths of those that had only cared about what he could provide for them, output measurable by accomplishments produce in a laboratory, rather than lives saved. And that was only scratching the surface.

A slow inhale brings needed clarity, cooling an ire that had seen his shoulders lift suddenly, fangs bared, but kept hidden behind a screen of light. Masking and concealing what he was, for as long as he pretended to be something else. "Wanna try that again, one more time?" Words are knitted together, delivered in a timbre that strained to remain pleasant, but the damage was already beginning to show, present long this exchange had taken place.

To look at the Spider now was to observe a rundown depiction of a hero, drained of a good portion of his stamina and needing to rest. His arms had felt like limp hindrances rather than valuable assets for the last few miles that he had, notably, spent walking rather than swinging through the air. An unusual shift in known habit that managed to worsen his impatient attitude. "

“I   only   wish   for   good   things.”   While   there   is   casual   aloofness   in   the   tone   of   his   voice,   Tony’s   muscles   were   tense,   eyes   sharp.   There   was   no   telling   on   what   grounds   he   stood   there,   whether   he   would   need   to   engage   his   defenses   or   whether   he   would   have   to   talk   himself   out   of   this   situation.   “Why   should   I   be   careful   about   wishing   for   a   mango margarita?   Or   that   my   muscles   are   not   in   pain   after   a   leg   day?”   Okay,   perhaps   he’s   being   a   bit   too   flippant   about   this,   call   it   a   defense   mechanism   —   make   it   seem   like   none   of   it   matters.

@wolfvirago

No  one  was  truly  alone  in  middle  of  Purgatory's  games.

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girlhood should've been kind. nezuko is envious of the other girls in the butterfly manor at times. they can run in the warm sun, dress up in pretty outfits, eat delicious and bad food, they can be girls. they have the option to live and thrive.

nezuko does not have that option. too afraid to reach out and touch the sun. unable to stomach the food she once adored. and dressing up in outfits makes her feel ugly. every time she wears an outfit, she looks like a corpse ready to be put in the damn ground.

maybe she is. maybe it's where she belongs. deep beneath the ground, with her mother and her siblings. she can feel it beneath her feet, the roots and dirt that call to the walking corpse that is her.

and standing outside, with robin nearby speaking to her the obvious (because anyone can look at nezuko and know the tragedy of being so dead and so alive.) nezuko balls up her fists. she should've gotten to grow up.

she should've gotten to watch her siblings grow up. she should've been playing and enjoying the sun. and it was taken from her. everything was taken from her and she never even gets to scream about it. she never gets to feel about it (one wrong move, one wrong emotion, and then suddenly she's a monster.)

nezuko yearns to scream. to release every last ounce of pain from her throat. but she can't. she doesn't. so she sits down next to robin once more, unfurls her fist (her nails dug into her palm and, for a moment, there was blood. only to be gone a moment later.)

head leans against the elders arm, and nezuko lets angry hot tears fall down her cheeks.

" mm. " she knows.